OneHundred Word Challenge
by Cannibalistic Skittles
Summary: One hundred words, one hundred stories. Sisters Grimm stories! On another note, I found a name for PuckxSabrina: Puckabrina! ...I didn't come up with it... Woo! Number 38 is now written and done! The sixth chapter of 100 is complete!
1. The Challenge

Okay. I've wrote this in hopes of adding to the ranks of the Sisters Grimm category. (Two pages! *dances*) For the Challenge, you will need to select one of the words and write a short (or, not-so-short, depending on your preferences) story centered on that word, or something related to the word. Continue until you have done a story for all of the words.

1. Dream  
2. Make-up  
3. Dye  
4. Pretty  
5. Temper  
6. iPod  
7. Scissors  
8. Holiday  
9. Present  
10. Basketball  
11. Fairytale  
12. Wedding  
13. Dance  
14. Rain  
15. Awkward  
16. Baby  
17. Snow  
18. Sing  
19. Pumpkin  
20. Sleep  
21. Picture  
22. Sigh  
23. Laugh  
24. Last straw  
25. Smirk  
26. Monkey (or Chimpanzee… .)  
27. Eyes  
28. Sugar  
29. What?  
30. Competition  
31. Wishes  
32. Imagine  
33. Hello  
34. Tattoo  
35. Waffles  
36. Royalty*  
37. Ugly  
38. Faded  
39. Miracle  
40. Popcorn  
41. Candles  
42. Superchick**  
43. Animals  
44. Purple  
45. Sunshine  
46. Star  
47. So what?  
48. Rock  
49. Hero  
50. Waltzing (Lessons)  
51. Clowns  
52. White flag  
53. Cow  
54. Chocolate  
55. Tissue  
56. A girl thing  
57. Crush  
58. Snake  
59. Roses  
60. Nap  
61. Grass  
62. Cloud  
63. Story  
64. Hey!  
65. Coin  
66. Perfect Enemy  
67. Pessimist / Optimist  
68. Shoes  
69. Umbrella  
70. Forget  
71. Remember  
72. Forever  
73. Book  
74. Happy  
75. Sad  
76. Chapstick  
77. Control  
78. Comfort  
79. Night  
80. Moon  
81. Stars  
82. Release  
83. Curse  
84. Doll  
85. Cold  
86. Chicken  
87. Alone  
88. Cry  
89. Opposites  
90. Boys and directions  
91. Art  
92. Impossible  
93. Insane  
94. Spider  
95. Stutter  
96. Photographs  
97. Hidden Talent  
98. Sick  
99. Payback  
100. Oops.

I am going to try to write a story for each of these as well, as an example. But if you do this challenge, you get a wish and a chapter update.

Please, contribute the the fabulosity that is Sisters Grimm.

If you take this challenge-

Some words are debatable. Message me if you would like to replace a word

Please remember, some of these words can be taken literally. 'Crush' could mean love, or, quite literally, crush. To smash.

It's your thing. Don't sweat it. It's your interpretation of it. And lastly: Have fun with it.

**(Notes)***

*(If you do this, may I suggest the word 'peon' to be used as well. It basically means 'peasant scum'.)

**{Either the phrase or the band. If you decide to do the band, I've seen it spelled Superchic(k). It's like super chic chick... I'll stop talking now.}


	2. 15: Awkward

One Hundred Word Challenge

Awkward

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Sabrina was tired. She had just come home from midnight shopping at Old Navy. (Yeah, they have Old Navy in Ferryport Landing. Pft. Of course they do.) She had waited outside at eleven at night, and was let in at twelve o'clock and four minutes. She was number eight of the first two hundred people in, and, once she spent about thirty dollars, received a free MP3 player. She was happy about the MP3 Player, the reason for the trip there, but she was insanely tired, as she returned home at approximately two o' clock and eight minutes. So tired, in fact, that she went straight upstairs to change. She was currently tossing her shirt, jeans, and socks into a laundry basket, as she left her shoes downstairs, when she heard a thumping noise, like someone stomping up the stairs.

Too late did she realize her mistake, only after she heard the sound of her doom:

"Hey, Grimm, you in there? The old lady made me come and apologize to you for-"

She had forgotten to close and lock her door.

…And that is how Puck came to find her in a state of undress. With her wearing nothing but her bra and underwear. BRA AND UNDERWEAR, BABY. Puck came to a halt in the doorway. "Uhh…" He said, _oh so intelligently_. "Umm…" Sabrina replied. The heat radiating from Puck's crimson hued face could have lit several raging fires. Sabrina, however, was turning almost pure white. "I'll-I'll just go now." Puck said, and darted out into the hall.

Several minutes later, Sabrina, out of her state of shock, smiled slightly, strangely content in the knowledge that she had made Puck, the Trickster King, spiritual leader to miscreants and hooligans, whose kingdom was located on the wrong side of the tracks, speechless.


	3. 8: Holiday

A/N: Hey, guys. Here's my second story. I actually think this one's a little weird...

One Hundred Word Challenge

#8, Holiday

The Trauma

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November thirtieth. Thanksgiving. It was one of Sabrina's favorite holidays, right after Christmas. (She liked Valentines Day- she thought it was romantic- but that was neutralized by so much Pepto-Bismol pink.) It was because she was so good at cooking. Sure, she kicked butt on a regular basis, and maybe she was a little rough around the edges, but she had always had a sort of affinity for baking. It just came naturally, and what small talent in this she might have once lacked was whisked away (both literally and figuratively) by endless practice. So, while Daphne was wonderful at putting things back in their places and cleaned the house with gusto, Sabrina was always asked to help out around the house in other ways: fixing the meals. And she loved it. It was a feature of hers that was praised often, other than her gorgeous hair, fabulously clear skin, and luminescent eyes. (But she didn't count that- it was just genes- DNA- and suffered through the terrible compliments admirably.) And so, when she came to her first foster home, there was a small part of her (okay, a large part of her) that expected that she would be showered with compliments about her cooking (the only that she would ever agree with, other than her fighting and protecting skill among few others).

She wasn't.

She was told her cooking was "too flavorful".

In her next month (and seventeen other foster homes and wacko families) she was told it was "too spicy", "not spicy enough", "too much salt", "not salty enough", and a thousand other contradictory comments, enough to make anyone's head spin.

So she stopped.

And the days passed, turned into months, and eventually two and a half years had passed.

Enter Granny Relda, she of the eccentricities and exotic foods.

In fact, one of the reasons that she disliked Granny Relda's cooking so much (other than the obvious freaky factor) was the damage to Sabrina's pride. Usually, the foster family would ask her if she could cook, hoping for some relief, she would shake her head mutely, in a silent reply of 'no', and they would sigh quietly. (Actually, it was quite a loud sigh normally, as they seemed bent on blatantly showing their disapproval, like a reminder to her that they took the sisters in without a thought of how it would affect their homes, their finances, their luxury time-or maybe she was reading too much into it.)

And, though Sabrina never showed it, (she still had her pride, you know) she would sometimes watch Granny Relda at the stove, looking longingly as she simmered and chopped and sautéed, and staring wistfully as she stirred.

She was sure Granny Relda didn't notice.

And she was wrong again.

She found this out a week before Thanksgiving, when Granny Relda asked her to help her with Thanksgiving dinner.

"I got many letters from your parents, liebling, about how wonderful your cooking was. Besides, I need a little extra help this year, what with so many extra mouths to feed." She had said with a wink. "Besides, I just have a feeling you'd have a knack for it."

So, here she was, Thanksgiving Day, up to her ears in gravy, stuffing, corn, yams, and or course, turkey.

And it was there, in the beloved kitchen, that the tragedy occurred.

I'll give you three guesses as to what happened.

And the first two don't count.

Yes, that's right.

Puck.

"Ah, Grimm, I see you've finally found your place- serving me." An arrogant voice sneered at her.

Already on defensive mode, Sabrina turned slowly, malice glinting in her eyes.

Puck backed away a step.

Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to be taunting someone with a butcher knife in their hands.

"Puck." She said slowly, carefully enunciating every word, "Get out of my kitchen."

"I think I'll be leaving now. Not because of you, of course, because that would mean I was scared of a girl, and that's just impossible, but of my own free wi-"

She flicked the knife at him and he scrambled out of her way

Unfortunately, that was into a counter.

The weight of Puck added to the force in which he collided into it toppled a bowl of pudding… which hit a larger bowl, which hit a dish of stuffing which hit-you guessed it- the turkey.

The latter item teetered a moment before subsiding with a small clatter back onto the surface of the table. Sabrina sighed in relief.

…And it abruptly fell off.

Sabrina stared hollowly at the prized dish she had put so much effort onto before turning her eyes upward to a horrorstruck Puck.

Puck watched in terror as Sabrina wordlessly raised her knife, a mildly crazed look on her face.

Puck was not proud to report that he screamed like a terrified little girl (no offence to little girls, as I have known many unfazable ones) before running off to the sanctuary of his room.

In all the confusion, he seemed to have forgotten he could fly.

Sabrina watched him go before replacing her knife on the counter as she calmed.

She sighed, before a faint, wistful smile appeared on her lovely face.

Oh well.

At least she got to cook it, didn't she?

(And for the rest of the day, she remained grinning like a maniac whenever she remembered Puck's reaction. The rest of the family remained in the dark about this turn of events and, when they confusedly sent Sabrina to see why Puck was not downstairs scarfing down food, as usual, shared a puzzled glance as a high pitched shriek reverberated through the house. Sabrina came down moments later, a satisfied smirk plastered onto her face as she reported, "He didn't want any.")


	4. 98: Sick

One Hundred Word Challenge

Challenge # 98

Sick

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Sabrina Grimm was positively, absolutely, without a doubt, miserably ill.

Everything hurt. It wasn't even a consistent pain—sometimes it was a dull throb, sometimes a piercingly sharp stab, and sometimes just a general ache.

_And it was driving her **insane**._

There were also small periods of nauseousness, where she felt like she was being lifted into the air and spun nonstop before being plunked backed down on the couch, and then was left to dry heave and cough up her internal organs. It had gotten so hard that she had eventually been forced to leave the safe haven of her bed for the aforementioned downstairs couch, conveniently located near a bathroom with which she was free to puke her guts out in.

The only moment with which she was given any reprieve from her suffering was strangely enough the eye of the storm—the moment after vomiting, where she could stumble light-headed back into the cover of the couch. It left her feeling pleasantly empty, and sometimes a sensation of pure hunger would strengthen her, if only by filling the void with something other than discomfort.

Several times she had the urge to climb up the stairs to wake Granny Relda (though of course she already knew about Sabrina's plight), much as she had wakened her mother on sleepless, sick night such as this before. She knew she couldn't do much, but it was...comforting, in a way. Earlier in the night, Granny Relda had plucked a random ribbon out of her purse o'doom for Sabrina to tie her hair back with, so it wouldn't be in her way. A small favor, but it seemed colossal to the ailing girl.

Every time that Sabrina stood to attempt her journey, however, she immediately lurched to the bathroom, nauseated by the sudden movement. After emptying her stomach of its contents once again (What time was it now? Fifth? Sixth? More? Less? She could make no sense of it) she had lost the motivation to try again.

The painful cycle continued throughout the night.

It was even worse for her during the daytime, if you can believe it. At least during the night she could flee to the porcelain bowl under cover of darkness and groan to herself as much as she liked. During the day, however, the bathroom was sometimes occupied, and she had to sprint to the sink, or the nearer trashcan in more desperate cases. When she moaned, she was met with a plea to be quieter, or a soft titter of pity. She wasn't sure which one was worse. Granny Relda had apparently informed the other members of the household of Sabrina's condition . She looked—and felt—like a mess. That sucked majorly too.

So at nine A.M., it wasn't a surprise to her to find herself rushing to the bathroom once more. Unfortunately, the ribbon that had been previously pulling her hair back away from her face had apparently loosened and fallen off, only to discovered months later by a bewildered Daphne.

It was the worst and the longest—though the two words could be interchangeable in this case—of upheaval she had been through either days. Of course. Such would only be natural now that she would be getting it all back via her interfering hair.  
She sighed and sat back slightly, waiting for vomit encrusted tresses to brush against her face, and the wet, slimy feeling that would undoubtedly come along with it.

It never came.

Her eyes were soon met with the sight of a certain fairy sitting next to her, awkwardly holding her hair back with his hand, and looking away from her, upwards. Glancing down, he shrugged and scowled slightly at her questioning look. "If it gets in your hair you spread the smell through the house, and even I can't take that stench, gasbag." He told her, by way of explanation. Brushing back the rest of her hair, he quickly stood and exited the room, a light pink color appearing on his face as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

Strangely though, she didn't feel much better afterwards. Her heart beat fast inside her chest and her temperature had increased even more, leaving her cheeks dusted with red.

Strange indeed.

-------

Well? What did you think?  
Can you tell I feel sick today?  
Too random?  
Makes no sense?  
Review please—it only takes a few seconds.~


	5. 100: Oops

One Hundred Word Challenge #100

Oops.

It was like those moments in movies. The agonizingly painful slow-motion bits, where you see the bullet streaming past and the wide eyes of the title character, you see the eyes turn glassy and close, and for that moment everything just _stops_-

(Her hair fanned out in waves as she fell, and the blow knocked the air out so she couldn't scream--she tipped back like a falling angel.)

Then she was gone.

The hose connecting the water tower to the cannon swung out still, straining, a wide arc where she no longer stood.

'_No_,' whispered a little voice, '_no_.'

His iridescent wings popped out, and he flew, almost lunging, off the edge of the platform, maybe, maybe he could catch her-

She wasn't there. There was no flutter of clothes, no ripple of familiar golden hair to mark her descent, and she was gone so surely, that for one sick instant he was certain she was farther below than he could see, splattered somewhere…

'_Oops_,' whispered the voice wryly, bitterly.

A gasp. A cry. A shout.

And she was there.

A thick, rope-like tail had curled around one of the support beams on the water tower, and the tail was attached to…

"Sabrina!"

The head turned upward, and when she sees him, she scowls. "You think this is funny, don't you? Another one of your hilarious pranks!" She yells, fury radiating from her words.

"I-I'm sorry Sabrina," he says. It's a wonder he didn't whisper.

"…Huh?" The anger evaporates from her face, leaving only confusion. He's trembling now.

"You nearly died. I didn't mean for that to happen, Sabrina." He wipes his face on a ragged jacket sleeve, turning some of the muck on it into wet muck.

He holds her tightly as they make the rapid descent downwards. She's warm, and he can feel her heartbeat.

She was alive.

And he was going to make sure she stayed that way.

---

Feh. 'Tis cheesy, and I couldn't find the book to put in the dialog right. I can fix it when I find it...


	6. 33: Hello

One Hundred Word Challenge # 33

It was amazing what a simple gesture could do. Marvelous, really. And absolutely…

Magical.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She was only getting static from her, lately.

Normally, she could tell what she was thinking. Even if she didn't agree with it, she would always get some kind of idea of what she was planning.

But this wasn't normal.

It wasn't just thoughts, either. Not a single word was directed towards her. The small brunette simply refused contact with her sister.

Sabrina received only static, the knowledge that something was there, but that it was lurking too far beneath the surface to connect.

She tried to gain her trust, tried to speak with her, tried to change the ending where she was the estranged sibling that you never speak of.

Her efforts got her nowhere, and Daphne continued to ignore her despairing sister.

It seemed that no matter what she did, the mistake she had made was too great to be forgiven.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The chirp of crickets was the only thing she heard. There was no trace of her sister's soft snoring or the restless shuffle of covers to wake her. She missed it.

Her bare feet swung over the side of the bed, and she flinched only slightly at the coolness of the floor. Still in pajamas, she walked quietly out the door, paying no mind to the tangles of blonde hair that hung around her face. She was at the top of the staircase when something moved, and she started, surprised.

Dark eyes looked up, focused on her. Daphne stood at the bottom of the stairs, clad in full-length red pajamas, looking up.

"Hello," she said. She looked solely at Sabrina, spoke only to her, before continuing on her way, up the stairs, past her.

A small gesture, really.

But it was enough.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I wrote this in Science class today, in about half an hour to 45 minutes.

I hope you like it, or at least…

I hope it doesn't _suck_.

(Either way, it gave me an idea for another story. *Wicked grin*)

*Walks off, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like 'It's good to be back…'*


	7. 38: Faded

100 Word Challenge #38  
Faded  
~-.-.-.-.-.-.-~

There is a box in the attic, not too difficult to find if you know what you're looking for, but easily overlooked.  
Here, though, were where some of her most precious memories lay.

Open it up and you may be surprised at the contents, and though they may not be the jewelry and heirlooms most hide away, they are to her far more wondrous.

Here was a picture of Henry when he was eight, scowling at the camera.  
Here was Jacob, seventeen months old, spaghetti sauce dripping down his face, his bowl atop his head.  
Here was Sabrina, six years old, and in awe of a snowflake drifting through the air.

And here…here was a picture of a laughing woman in a white dress, twirling with a man in a tuxedo.  
Her wedding.

Relda smiled, and replaced the picture.  
No matter how faded it may get, she would always remember.


End file.
